Page 94 of Bared

But right now, it was the closest to perfection he’d ever get.

The feel of her in his hands, undulating over him.

The glory of her in his gaze, her profile etched in moonlight.

The miracle of her in his senses, vibrant and vital and bold. Bringing him back to life, even here.

But maybe…especially here.

Fate hadn’t wasted a detail of the symbolics. He got it. Death was rarely a conscious choice, but hiding from life was. That included mental walls as well as physical ones. Emotional islands to match the real ones. And for the memories that wouldn’t stay put in those confines: his psychological crypts were always ready, sealing away the fear and panic. Most of the time. On the occasions when his zombies rose up, intent on smashing his mental caskets and wiping out his brain, he had his pharmaceutical friends to watch his back. To keep him safe in his emotional graveyard.

The recognition slammed him like a falling sarcophagus. And filled him with just as much horror.

But now…just as much awakening. And conviction. And commitment.

Tonight, he hadn’t needed the zombie prevention pills.

He had something better.

Someone better.

And he wanted more.

More of her light, her energy, her erotic glory. More of the flawless flames she was bringing to his pores, his blood, his cock. More of the urgent, magnificent passion he was giving her in return.

More.

More.

He issued the demand aloud then, stabbing it into every note of a savage snarl from his taut lips. The tone, and its lusty origins from deep in his belly, clung to his continuation. “Give me more, Pixie,” he commanded. “Work me. Grind me. Harder. Harder!”

“Yes.” Just one word of sweet obedience from her, but it was better than an entire novel of erotic poetry. A ten-foot-tall stack of porn mags. And every nasty video he’d ever seen. “Oh yes, Sir…”

“Hmmm.”

It was more a growl than a hum, roughened by the arousal that rushed his senses, the pressure that pushed at his shaft. He wasn’t going to last much longer. The time limit on his volume threshold was even smaller. The enticing whimpers and gasps from her lips added another layer to that concern. The cops hadn’t bailed on searching the whole cemetery yet.

Obeying pure instinct, he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and then tugged. “Come here,” he instructed. “Give me your mouth, girl. All of it.”

She was hot and ready with the acquiescence, plunging her warm, swollen lips into a lusty vacuum seal over his. Together, they hauled in heavy air through their noses while meshing their mouths in all the ways their bodies couldn’t. It was fervent and fiery. Tight and wet. Wild and wanton. Illicit…and explosive.

Holy fuck.

Explosive.

He knew it as soon as the woman’s mewls doubled in time. Then tripled. But then stopped completely, as she humped him with blinding abandon. Her hips rolled in ways he’d only ever fantasized about, with her downstroke hitting perfectly along the aching crown of his pulsing length. Then again, and again, and—

“Goddamn!”

If the gendarmes discovered them because of his groan, he’d go to prison a happy man.

No. Not just happy.

Deliriously drained.

Sublimely screwed.

Past the point of any and all erotic returns.